


The Hunger

by john6lisa



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-06
Updated: 2015-04-06
Packaged: 2018-03-10 19:12:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3300503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/john6lisa/pseuds/john6lisa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU B&W story based on the 1982 movie of the same name. I have been wanting to write this for awhile. It is set in the 1980’s and I am using some of the charters from the warehouse show in this story, so there maybe some OC with some of them. There will be a B&W and yes, this a Vampire movie/story so will be blood, gore and all that fun stuff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The nightclub was dark, sudden flashes of light, in sync with the band that was performing, highlighted the grind of the young, overtly beautiful couple that was center stage on the dance floor.

A few tattered threads on the tight shirt that strained against a toned chest, hairline cracks on the worn leather jacket, faint tears and the beginnings of a run in the fishnet stockings clued the older couple that the younger were more than likely, street urchins.

“No one would miss them,” the accent brushing across the man’s ear. He nodded his approval and begin the well honed dance that was taught to him by her, long ago. His gaze lingering on the couple, his hand raised with the lighter, held near, as the woman lit another cigarette, her hand releasing its grip off the thick wrist that held the antique Ronson lighter up. The flickering flame reflected off dark sunglasses as she turned away, only to lean slightly into his side as he stared at the young couple.

Lowering his mirrored aviator sunglasses, he leaned in to his young woman, his lips stilled her dancing for a minuscule moment, then she returned to her sway as the young man held up two fingers, his arm stretched high above his head.

The older man’s face stayed stone cold as he raised his hand up in front of his face, all five of his digits splayed, his head tilting to the woman next to him.

The younger mans face froze, his body stilled from the grinding of the music, his mouth mimicking the sound of the word five as his hand jumped out in front of his face.

…

 

“Make yourself at home,” the soft English voice said as she walked to the living room, not bothering to remove her jacket, hat or her designer shades, the younger couple following close behind. The older man leaned back against the door, making sure it was double locked before he moved into the living room to join them.

The music filled the small loft, just loud enough to drown out any sound that would alert their neighbors to any wrong doing. The young, short haired woman rubbed up against the older woman, no reaction had, shrugging her shoulders, she stood in front of the couch, swaying seductively as both men watched. The older woman turned her head in the direction of her companion, a slight nod was given.

“No ice,” he said, holding up the empty ice bucket for all to see.

He smirked to his companion as the young girl grabbed the bucket, slinging it over her shoulder as she walked into the kitchen. He pushed himself off the mini bar, nodding to the older woman as he turned to follow the younger woman.

The older woman stood in front of the young man who sitting on the couch, straddling his legs, she tossed her jacket off, taking one last long draw on her cigarette, she flicked it away, landing near her coat. The younger man smiled, lacing his fingers together as he moved them behind his head.

The younger woman downed the drink that was made for her as she sat on the barstool next to the counter, her eyes never leaving the man’s. She frowned, removing his sunglasses, she leaned back against the counter as his hands roamed under her tight, cheap, faux leather mini skirt. Her breath becoming more rapid as his hands then moved up, unzipping her old leather jacket.

Her moans were matched by her boyfriends as the older woman leaned down, her tongue raking over the two day old stubble on the younger man's throat. She stood up, tossing his hands away from her breasts. Her one hand then sliding over her chest, freeing the gold chain and odd looking medallion from her blouse. Her fingers toying with it as she bent her head down, sucking on the young mans throbbing pulse.

Ecstasy was building as the older mans hand brushed roughly against dark red nipples, throwing her head back as he bent down sucking on the left one, not noticing his hand had freed a few buttons on his shirt, the gold chain and odd, matching medallion was being toyed with.

Sighs of pleasure were drowned by the others as each young one leaned their heads back, subcoming to their passions, oblivious to sharp blades that were being exposed. Cries rang out as each struggled, rapid pulses spewed the red crimson as veins were cut, harsh mouths grappled, straining to suck every ounce of the life-giving elixsure out of them.

The subway noise rattled the windows as blood soaked medallions were tossed into the white porcelain sink. Red was slowly turning to pink as hands were washed cleaned. Two black bags were tossed into the trunk of the car as if day old garbage.

The older woman let a small smile cross her lips, nodding her thanks as the older man finished holding the lighter up. Her hand tuned the radio to her favorite classical radio station, her hand giving a gentle squeeze to the firm hands on the steering wheel, her head tilting to the side of the window. She never tired of the view as they crossed the bridge, heading back to the safety of their brownstone on the island, her eyes dancing with the first rays of light over the Hudson.

The bags were tossed into the furnace down stairs next to the car, them both giving the other a soft smile as they made their way to the private room.  
...

He leaned back against the cooling tile of the over sized shower, watching as she rinsed the shampoo from her dark locks. “Forever?” he whispered.

“Hmm, what?” her dark, mahogany eyes fluttering open as she squeezed the water from her hair.

“Forever and ever?” he replied, moving to pull her flush to his body as she reached for his hand. The kiss, soft, slowly building to an urgent need.

 

The flame flickered, the tip of the cigarette glowing red as he ran his hand through his hair as he leaned back against the frame of the door, watching her sleeping soundly.

“Forever,” the sound of their previous music lesson, his cello cresendingo as he closed his eyes. His long hair was tied back in a leather strap, his white blouse hang loosely from his young frame, the riding pants tucked into the black boots, one leg now pressed against the barn wall.

He sighed, taking another drag on his cigarette, his minds eye clear to that day, watching as her white dress brushed over the hay that littered the barn floor, her hands rising up to uncover the veil over coiffed hair.

“Forever and ever,” she whispered against his lips as her hands traveled up his chest.

His head was bowed, his fingers tracing over his lips, then threading through his hair, the memory of that day, hundreds of years ago was as fresh as if it had just happened.

Nate sighed as he watched Helena, her breaths even, her sleep undisturbed as he made his way out of the bedroom. These last few weeks had become unbearable, each time after feeding, he slept less and less.

He had taken to hiding away down in the basement, waiting for her to awake. Kissing her cheek, he would dress for the day next to her. Then talking of the days events, of what piece they would play together. He waiting in the living room, waiting for her to finish her cup of morning tea.

He heard the noise of that box coming from the other room, peeking his head around the corner, he watched as Helena’s attention was diverted to the tely. It was a medical show, the interviewer god awful, pandering to the guest. He leaned back against the wall, listening as the doctor went on about her medical research. 

“My guest today has been Dr. Myka Bering and her book is tilted ‘Sleep and longevity,’ 

Helena’s pupils dilated as she watched the blush spread over the young doctors face at the praise the interviewer was giving her. Helena’s lips parted, a slight breath escaping as she watched slender, but strong, giving fingers rake through brown curls as the woman blushed, her head down cast at interviewers hawking of her book.

His hands shook nervously in his jacket pockets as he walked into the drawing room, waiting for the show to end, knowing she would sense his restless. “How did you sleep?” she asked, setting her cup of tea down, patting her knee as she looked at his downcast gaze.

“Here. come sit here,” Helena whispered as she patted the chair next to her.

As Nate started to move, eyeing the seat next to her, the loud buzz of the door went off. Giving a sheepish grin and shrugging his shoulders, he turned, heading to the foyer down stairs. Helena's eyes followed him, she knew he had not been sleeping all through the cycle. Her lips pursing as she watched his shoulders slump, his hands fidgeting in his jacket pockets, leaving to answer the door.

Nate looked up to video screen, the young red head throwing a peace sign with her fingers at the camera as he buzzed her in.

“Cheese,” she said, the bright flash of the camera blinding him for a second. Claudia pulled the slip out, waving the polaroid to dry quicker. “Geezers, you look like hell, what have you been doing,” she said through smacks of her gum.

“None of your business,” Nate retorted dryly, looking down at the polaroid.

Claudia smiled over the tucked violin against her chin, winking at Helena as she waited for her cue to start. Helena was at the piano, Nate with his cello between his legs, His brow furrowed as he was lost in his solo.

His hand slipped, the bow raking over the strings at the last of his part, Claudia then joining in on the violin.

Both women stopping as his hand dropped his bow. “Forgive me,” he whispered, setting his cello against the chair as he made a hasty exit from the music room.

“Poor dear, he has not been sleeping well,” Helena said as she turned her sheet music.

“Luds,” Claudia breaking the silence.

“What?” Helena asked, her eyes still trained on the sheet music.

“Luds, quaaludes. Uppers, you know,” Claudia shrugged as she readjusted her violin, looking over Helena's shoulder at the sheet music.

“Claudia!” Helena said in a stiff tone.

“What? My step-mother gets them by the gross,” she shrugged. “I could bring Nate some.”

 

“Poor woman,” Helena mumbled, her eyes staying focused on the sheet music.

“Yeah, well my dad doesn't care. It shuts her rantings,” Claudia shrugged.

Nate leaned against the door frame, just out of sight of the two. He light a cigarette, his fingers brushing over the polaroid that was stuffed in his jacket.

He took a heavy, long draw, blowing smoke rings as the sounds of those two faded, his eyes trained on the photo. He went to the nearest bathroom, squinting in the mirror, then turning it over to the enhanced side, squinting his eyes, he spotted the crows feet that were not there yesterday.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N Warning: There is an animal death, but not graphic.  
> I will try to post every week.  
> No Beta, so all mistakes are mine.  
> Disclaimer: I own nothing of Syfy.

...

The lab room was dark, the only light was a soft glow from the montiers at the console where Dr Bering sat, her eyes trained on the pacing monkey in the cage before them.

“Big Mac’s” Pete’s voice breaking the silence as he came into the room, holding up the bag of greasy burgers. He leaned in, kissing Myka’s cheek, her head still forward, her eyes never leaving the pacing primate.

“He’s manic, that’s what’s so strange, no fall off in activity,” Myka said, shaking her head.

“So what went wrong?” Pete asked, handing the burger over to Steve next to him on the couch, “Leena?” he asked, holding the carton up to her.

“His blood pressure is still up, he hasn't slept for fifty some hours, he has been getting uglier and uglier” Leena said as she paced the room.

“Fifty six,” Steve replied.

“And then, last night, he turned on Betty,” Leena sighed.

“He tore her apart and then he ate her,” Steve mumbled, tossing his burger aside.

“He loved Betty,” Leena said, still pacing the room.

“You thought he loved Betty,” Pete mumbled through a mouth full of burger.

“Okay, lets get the old video equipment in here,” Myka said, slapping the console as she got up.

“I could kill him,” Leena muttered, Myka standing near the glass as the primate lunged at her from behind the glass, her flinching at the snarling fangs.

“Careful, Leena. Thats a two thousand dollar monkey you are talking about,” Pete was saying as he wiped some of the special sauce from his chin.

Myka stared down the monkey, “Don’t you snap at me you little son of a bitch,” whispering under her breath.

…

The bookstore was unusually crowded Helena noticed, waiting for the sales clerk to wrap up the book she had just purchased. Her eyes rose to the monitor above the shelf, there she was, leaned over a desk, signing her books for the throngs of people.

Helena smiled, taking her package from the clerk, then walking up the stairs to the second floor toward the book signing. She moved stealthily through the crowd, stopping just a few lengths away from the curly haired doctor who was engrossed in her task.

Helena stared at the beauty before her, her mind willing the younger woman to raise her head,

“I,m sorry, what did you say?” Myka feeling a rush of warmth to her cheeks as her eyes met dark obsidian.

“Nothing, but I would like to talk with you,” Helena smiled.

“ Okay, um, yes, I would like that,” Myka’s cheeks warming by the second, swallowing hard at her being unable to release her stare from the alluring woman.

“Excuse me, but could you make it out to Lily Beth?” the elder woman’s face filling her sight, shaking Myka out of her trance. Helena just smiled and turned away. 

Myka sighed, then putting on her best fake smile as she sighed the book, her eyes darting up, catching the fleeting figure descending the stairs.

…

“Park West,” Helena told the taxi driver as she settled into the back of the cab, smiling to herself at the blush she had elicited from the young doctor, pools of green flooding her thoughts.

A fleeting view of Nate, sitting in front of the TV, some loud cartoon filling the room snapped Helena out of her thoughts as she entered the hospital. Walking down the hall, she flinched and moved to the side as a patient, blood IV attached, was wheeled by her.

After receiving directions to the research office of Dr Bering, she chanced a look at a room she was passing by, a man was getting into bed, the image of Nate laying down flooded her inner sight.

Helena was a bit disheartened when she had reached the office, finding out that Dr Bering was busy, she sighed and repressed her frustration as she met with one of Myka’s research assistants.

“And have you found a correlation between blood types and aging?” she asked the young doctor who met with her. He droned on about the research, blood types and medical research, Helena shaking her head no to an offer of coffee from the man.

“Blood type, how long you sleep and how deeply, does affect aging. Why, we have even had results with monkeys, but we are long way from promising everlasting life,” he smiled.

“Thank you, Dr Jinks,” Helena smiled curtly as he escorted her to the elevators.

 

…

 

Nate was settled into his chair, the long ago abandoned book resting on his lap as he ran his fingers through his hair, “Look, my hair keeps falling out,” he said as Helena squeezed his arm. “Tell me, why are these books so badly written, I wonder,”

She stopped in front of the window, staring out as she spoke, “I've been there, they know nothing,” she sighed.

“Tell me, how long did the others take?” Nate asked, watching as Helena frowned at him, turning to walk into the other room.

“I don't know, a few weeks?” Helena’s back to him as she put out her cigarette.

“You must remember, Helena. I know it is a long time but it is something you don't forget,” Helena only turning her head to his words.

“Giselle, how long did she take?’ he asked somberly.

“A week, a few days. I don't remember,” Helena’s eyes downcast as she spoke. “She fed but she couldn't sleep,”

“And the one before that?” Nate asked as he got up, slowly walking to Helena.

“The same, always the same. I prayed that I wouldn't lose you. I live with your suffering, again and again. I hoped that through some small miracle of science, I would not lose you” keeping her back to Nate, hoping her face and voice did not betray her.

“Come here,” Nate whispered as Helena turned to face him.

“And who is next? Have you thought about that?” Helena’s face turned cold at his words, her anger boiling inside her. “Who’s going to keep you company when I am gone?” his words biting at her as she moved past him. “I'm sure you have thought about it. Who is it to be, Claudia?”

Helena reined her fury as she started up the stairs, “Stop it,” she growled under her breath.

“Look at me,” Nate's voice rising as Helena looked over her shoulder.

“Helena! What am I going to do?” Nate shouted as Helena slammed the door to her bedroom. Her thoughts jumping back to the first one, him chained to the bed, yelling and pleading with her.

The crash of the book, the shattering of broken glass filled the house as Helena sunk to her knees.

…

The rain was coming down in sheets as Nate got out of the cab, shaking his coat just before he entered the building. He made his way to the reception area, asking where to find Dr Bering.

He moved through the hallways, passing cages of test animals, his head turning at the sound of a ringing phone and a female voice.

“Barbra, I'm going to see the finance committee so don’t put anyone through unless it’s an emergency,okay?” Myka was saying as she was busy gather up files around her desk.

Myka was looking in her compact, doing a once over before she left, the reflection of a man causing her to turn.

“Don't be alarmed, my name is Wells, Nathaniel Wells,” he was saying as he removed his fedora.

“How did you get in here, Mr ?” Myka was startled and a bit shocked at the man that appeared out of nowhere in her office.

“Wells,” he said.

“You can't be in here Mr Wells, this is a restricted area,” trying to maintain a steady voice at the stranger.

“I've been reading your book and I can not lie, I have not read all of it,” he said, putting his hat down on her desk.

“I'm just on my way out for an important meeting, Mr Wells,” Myka said in a stern voice as she handed his hat back to him.

“You say that age is a disease, a disease that can be cured,” looking at his hat as he spoke.

“Yes,” Myka said, scurrying to gather her files.

“Do you seriously believe that?”

“Yes, I do, Mr Wells, but I am very late for a meeting on another floor so…” Myka was saying as she came around her desk, arms full of files as she adjusted her lab coat.

“Look at me, look at my hands. How old am I?” holding his hand toward the doctor.

“Their waiting,” Myka said firmly.

“How old?” Nate said through gritted teeth. “These are liver spots, aren't they?” holding his hand up.

“Yes, they look like that,” Myka trying to remain calm, her eyes wide.

“I didn't have them yesterday. Yesterday I was thirty years old. Do you understand? I am a young man,”

Myka soften at the fear she saw in the man’s eyes,”Yes, well, I want you to wait for me, I’ll be back in fifteen minutes and then we will run some tests,” Myka smiled, leading the man out of her office.

“Why dont you have a seat and I will be with you as soon as I can,” she said as she lead them to a waiting room.

“Fifteen minutes,” Nate was almost pleading as he grab Myka’s arm. Her body relaxed a bit at the plead she saw in his eyes.

“I’ll try, really, I have to go,” she smiled as she left the room.

Nate held his hands behind his back, his legs just hitting against the leather couch in the waiting room, he finally sat down, back straight, as he looked at the clock.

“Hi Fred, this Dr Bering, I just had a nut job wander into my office… no no, don't break his legs, I’m fine. He seems harmless enough. I left him in the waiting room, just let him sit there for awhile and he should get tired and leave,” Myka said, then hanging up the phone in the outer office. She looked at the waiting room door, something about the man struck at her.

“Hey, you ready to wow the committee into forking over some money?” Pete’s voice shaking Myka out of her thoughts, gathering her files as they headed down the hall.

Nate sat up as the nurse opened the door, calling for a man that had been waiting near him. He sat back, sighing as he looked up at the clock. The sagging skin tighten as he gave a curt smile to the nurse in the waiting area.

Leena and Myka were sitting at the console, Pete leaning on Leena’s chair as Steve paced the room; all were reviewing the tapes of the monkey. “Effective age at this point, fifty five,” Leena was saying as they watched the tape.

“And whats that in human terms?” Pete asked.

“Equivalent to around ninety two,”

“Here he is in his seventieth hour,” Myka was saying, watching the monkey age before them. “That is when the first degenerative changes are seen and he is aging at approximately five years per minute,”

"Jesus Christ," Pete mumbled.

 

Nate looked at the picture he had kept in his pocket, the one Claudia had taken of him just a few days ago. As he took off his hat, his fingers laced at the hair still inside the hat.

 

“Steve, what was the results of that blood test?” Pete asked.

“The cells had lost their ability to maintain oxygen,”

“And life signs terminate right... here,” Myka turning her head, wiping a tear away from her cheek, her hand gripping Leena’s shoulder as her assistant started to cry softly. The primate then rapidly decomposing just as the tape ended.

“Sir, excuse me, sir? Would you like a cup of coffee?” The nurses voice breaking Nate’s thoughts, he turned, seeing that he had been in that waiting room for over two hours. He grab his hat, stood up, almost knocking the nurse over as he rushed for the door.

“It's your job. Just show them the tapes,” Myka was saying to Pete as they walked down the hallway.

“You think so? Artie will have a heart attack at the money we are asking,”

“Pete, these tapes are worth a fortune. We have made history, we have shown that there is a clock. We have shown that it can be tampered with,” Myka pleading with Pete. “Okay, I don't exactly understand how it works, but I am going to find out if it kills me,”

Myka stopped Pete, “We are talking about the secret of life and death here,”

“Oh, that’s good, Artie will love that,” 

“He’s an idiot,” Myka shot back.

“No, your wrong hun, nobody with half a million dollars to give away is an idiot,”

“Look, we need this funding, we are so close,” Myka pleaded.

Pete grabbed the tapes from Myka, leaning in as she kissed him, “Thanks,”

…

 

Nate looked at his reflexion in the mirror, his fingers tracing the wrinkles and sagging skin that now adorned his once, youthful face. The hunger was building inside, a raging need clawed at him. He eyed the young orderly who was washing up in the sink near him. He eyes trained on his neck, the pounding of each heart beat was deafening in his ears.

He ran his fingers over the medallion around his neck, his only thought was to fed. The sound of the toilet flushing caused his hand to still, the young man eyeing him as Nate buttoned his shirt, shrugging his long overcoat on and then rushed out of the bathroom.

He looked up at hearing Myka’s voice down the hall, talking with some curly hair woman. “I know, Pete was great, it was not as much as we hoped for but at least it will get us through next year” Myka was saying as she walked with Leena.

“Dr Bering?”

“Yeah?” Myka was smiling as she turned around to address the rough voice.

“You let me down, you didn't believe me,” Nate was saying as he walked by the two women, heading down the stairs.”You left me waiting for two hours,”

“I beg your pardon?” Myka said as she watched the old man walk by. “Mr Wells?” she stuttered as she started to follow the man.

“You said you had a meeting for fifteen minutes, you lied. You thought I was some ridiculous old crank,” 

“Mr Wells, wait,”

“Wait? I cant wait. I am urgently required elsewhere,” Myka rushing behind him as they went down the stairs.

“Mr Wells, wait. Why dont you come into my office?” Myka was rushing as Nate got into the elevator.

“Why don't you take a seat in the patient lounge,” he said as he put his hat on. The door closing, Myka then hitting the button to open the doors, her face frozen as she looked at the weathered, old face.

“You can't leave,” her eyes wide as the door closed.

 

Nate rushed out onto the wet streets, his mind fighting at the incessant hunger clawing at the pit of his stomach. He was in a daze as he rushed through the crosswalk, almost getting hit by a cab.

"You stupid old fuck!" the cabbie yelled as Nate rushed across the street.

He was rushing through Central park when the low drum of the music flooded his ears, he followed as it lead him into the tunnel, a young man, on roller skates, was dancing to the loud music, unaware of Nate sneaking up on him. He waited till the young man came close enough so he could grab him.

A scuffle ensued, the boy no match for Nate’s strenght, but the skates caused the boy to fight and slip away just as Nate’s blade pierced his neck.

“You cut me! You fucking cut me,” the boy was yelling as Nate ran out of the tunnel.

The hunger was now all consuming.

…

Claudia stood on the steps, ringing the bell incessantly, she was just about ready to turn and leave when a rough voice answered, “Yes, what do you want?”

“Um, hi, I have an appointment with Helena… um, I mean Mrs Wells,”

“There's nobody here,” the rough voice said.

“Oh, my name is Claudia Donovan. I live down the street and I tune with the Well's every Monday, Wednesday and Fridays,” she said through smacks of her gum.

“It’s Tuesday,”

“Oh, I know, I just wanted to tell Helena, that I can't come tomorrow, um, Mrs Wells,” Claudia rolling her eyes. ”On account of some dumb lecture I got suckered into at school,”

“She’s not here. I told you, no one is here,”

“Well, maybe I can leave a note?”

The door buzzed, clicking open. Claudia rolled her eyes, again as she went inside.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, the same old song and dance ... RL, work etc.  
> No Beta so all mistakes or mine.  
> Disclaimer: I own nothing of Syfy or MGM.

Claudia eyed the older man as she entered the foyer, her violin tucked snug under her arm, her Polaroid dangling from her neck. “So, is it okay that I leave a note?”

“If you must,”

“I must, I must” Claudia snarked. She then sighed as the joke was lost on the old man who leaned against the door. Not everyone had watched ‘Blazing Saddles’ that night, she summarized.

Claudia steadied her head, writing a quick note to Helena … Mrs Wells, rolling it up. She smirked to herself as she tucked the post-it into the cold hand of the marble statue that sat in the foyer of the music room. Her gum smacked as she lifted her camera, snapping a pic of the rolled note.

Nate reached for the cold wall behind him, sighing as the hunger filled his soul, then trying to deflect, “So, tell me, what piece are you studying with them?”

“Not much,” Claudia said as she started to pick up her case.

“Please, humor an old man,” Nate said, his bones cracking at the pain of the quickening age setting in, falling onto the bench near Helena’s piano.

“Are you sure you are not Nate’s dad?” Claudia questioned as she removed her violin. “It’s just that … you have the same eyes,”

“ All these years with them and I never noticed,” Nate straining at a natural response.

“Are you really sure you're not related?” Claudia sighed as she thumbed through her sheet music.

“Quite sure,” Nate replied as he moved to his chair, his hand reaching for his Cello.

“Well, this is a piece that I have been practicing for awhile, hope I do it justice,” Claudia shrugging her shoulders as she readjusted her violin.

“A little saccharin,” Nate whispered as Claudia flexed her bow.

“That is what Nate says,” Claudia shifting her head, her hand letting her bow fall just a bit.

“Are you really sure that you are not Nate’s dad?” repeating herself, something off about the old man. Claudia’s eyes then shining with a bit of her mirth as the old man looked up at her.

“You know Nate, speaks before he thinks,” he replied.

“Is that what it is?” Claudia huffed, readjusting her violin under her chin as she rolled her eyes.

“You don't like Nate?” the old man asked. He finger slowly inching up, then sliding inside his shirt, smiling to himself as he felt the cold feel of the metal touch his skin.

“No, not at all. I love them both,” Claudia said as she turned her sheet music. “Its just …” Claudia sighed.

“Just what?” Nate smiled, his thoughts stilled as he listened to his replacement drone on.

“I love them both,” Claudia exacerbated. Then she swallowed as she saw a shadow pass over the old man’s face. “Nate is just… I don't know, maybe a little distant,” Claudia shrugged. “Are you sure you want to hear this?”

“Quite sure,” thin lips spread across yellow, aged teeth. Setting down his Cello as he slowly stood up, grateful for the pull of the girls bow that drowned out the protest of his joints. The low grumble of his stomach hidden in the soft notes as Claudia warmed up.

 

He paced the small room as Claudia played, his hand playing at the crease of his shirt. Claudia eyed the old man as she played. The hair on the back of her neck stood up as the old man neared her.

“Forgive me,” Nate whispered, Claudia furrowing her brows.

Her shriek was muffled as Nate’s hand covered her mouth, they struggled, Nate lifting the small girl up off the floor, her feet bumping into the pedestal, the sheet music fluttering down to the polished oak floor. 

The Polaroid ripped from Claudia’s neck crashed to the floor, capturing the image of Nate’s blade slicing the soft skin.The pursed lips locking on Claudia’s open gash on her neck, drinking every drop as the young girl's struggles ebbed.

 

…

Helena had had an uneasy feeling all day, leaving the benefit she had attended short as she bolted toward the door of the museum. 

“Keep it,” Helena growled as she tossed the paper money to the driver of the town car she had hired for her day on the town.

Her hand shook as she reached for the doorknob of their Brownstone, a flash of blood spraying across sheet music clouded her inner sight.

“Please, no,” she whispered as she pressed her forehead against the door, trying to will her resolve, not wanting to believe what had happened in her absence. Helena inwardly cursed herself for leaving Nate alone as his hunger was now engulfing him.

She grimaced at past memories of Giselle, of leaving her alone to her vices;  
...

The crowd had surged forward chanting ‘kill the witch’ as they lit the pyro ablaze. Helena being shoved back from the onslaught of the town folk.

Helena whispering over and over as tears streamed down her cheeks. Her hands pressed so hard against her ears to block the shrieking of Giselle as she burned at the stake.

“Come, you should not be witness to this,” Nate’s voice calm as the mob cheered. Him wrapping Helena in a blanket, leading her to his waiting carriage. Her heart harding as the crys faded.

...

“Nate?” she called out, knowing his hunger was starting to take hold. She had hoped the change would have started later.

Helena had been cross at the younger generation, the blood lines seemed to thin as the centuries passed. Maybe something in the water had thinned the humans over the ages.

She set her purse down, hesitant as she was drawn to the music room, it seeming too overly clean. She knew the cleaning staff was not due till tomorrow. 

The pull toward the marble statue drew with purpose.

 

Helena bent down, noticing the glossy paper behind the statue, then rising as she pressed the polaroid to her lips.

“What have you done?” she whispered, the events of the last few hours playing in her minds eye.

Her dreams were dashed as she relived the bloodletting at Nate’s hand, feeling his rage as he drain Claudia. She passed by Nate, him trying desperately to hold his fraile form stead against the door on their decent to the basement.

The bile building with each passing step. 

Helena held the door open to the furnace, the faint smell of her once future mate was fading with each passing flame.

“Kill me,” the horse voice filling the room as Helena’s hand bent the handle of the furnace.

“I can’t,” Helena whispered.

Nate had stood at the top of the stairs, his body shaking from the ravage of the age consuming his body, he shook at the proclamation from Helena.

“Please, release me,” he begged.

“I can’t,” Helena sobbing at the loss of her dear Claudia, trying her best to rein in her anger at Nate taking her next mate.

“So be it,” Nate croaked out, his hand releasing his grip on the rail of the stairs, Helena sighing as she listened to bones cracking as his body tumbled down the stairs. No amount of physical damage he inflicted upon himself would kill him completely. She rushed to his crumpled form, lifting his head to her lips.

“My darling,” she whispered, lifting with ease as she took them to the lift. “You will not feel,” she said. The lift passing the floors, “But you will hear as the ages progress,” she whispered. The door opened on the third floor, her laying his broken form down in the middle of the room

His mind's eye saw as Helena pulled an ornate coffin away from the storage area, his eyes drifting over all the coffins that were stacked against the wall, six, at his last count as the dust filled the room, some settling in his now lifeless eyes as she shook away the tarp, then laying him in the ornate tomb.

”Giselle, be kind to Nate, tonight,” Helena whispered as she brushed his cheek, his lips moving but no sound would escape as she then closed the lid to his tomb. Her hand then raised to her lips, pressing on both Nate’s and Giselle’s coffins.

…

Helena had changed into a simple black dress, her self inclose in the safeness of her room before she fell down into the soft bed. Before, Helena had made sure to change the sheets, needing to release the smell of Nate from the room. Her eyes had just shut, trying her best to feel some sort of bereavement for Nate when the low ring of the front door reverberated throughout her home.

A low smile forced her lips to curl upward as she entered the foyer, her dark eyes darting up to the monitor next to the front door. She smiled inwardly as dark curls filled the screen.

“Yes?” was the crackle over the intercom, shaking Myka out of her stupor.

“Um? Mrs Wells?” Myka cursing herself at the crack in her voice.

“Yes?” Helena replied in a monotone voice, again pressing the com button, a perverted feel growing inside herself. Her mate was just laid to rest, her still grieving at her next mate cut short by the ravage of her old one. But, the sight of wild curls, shining green eyes, had melted away at her so called soul.

“Umm, my name is Doctor Bering, Myka bering,” Myka stumbling over her words. God knows she was never good with the living, a cold, sterile intercom should have been a snap for her. The book signing was pure torture for Myka, her palms were wet the whole day until she met those dark eyes, feeling the embrace of warmth and protection.

Now, she stood outside an ornate home, her guilt eating at her for ignoring the rates of a man that pleaded for her help.

“Yes?” Helena feeling the over consuming guilt that coursed through this piece of cattle. Strike that, a soul that had some pull of that small muscle that beat inside her killers heart.  
But, that pull, something she had not felt in eons, stirred.

Something she had never felt, ever. Her brow furring at this new, foreign feeling.

Helena open the door, Myka’s breath hitching as their eyes met, “Oh, hello,” remembering that beautiful face, those dark eyes that bore into her soul that day at the book store. Myka then trying her best to remain the professional she thought she was.

“I’m Dr Bering,”

“I know,” Helena smiled as she held the door open, watching this beauty stumble over her words.

“I have to be honest, your husband came to the clinic the other day and frankly, I thought he was a crank and I feel guilty about how I treated him and I am here …”

Helena’s smiled as the younger woman’s rambling were cut short as she spied the portly man over Myka’s shoulder, knowing that Claudia was coming back to haunt her. Helena smiled, trying to hurry the woman up, but not wanting to lose a second of the warmth she felt.

“I am afraid my husband is indisposed, he is in Switzerland,” Helena quick with her words as she watched the man slowly approach.

“Switzerland?!” Myka was stunned, her throat dry at the thought of this man she had ignored, now in some strange clinic. Myka then reached in her satchel, her eyes never leaving the curve of this woman’s throat. She then blushed as Helena raised her eyes, catching her stare.

“This is my work number and my home number,” Myka’s voice pulling Helena away from the threat that was the man behind this beauty.

“Please, call me if you need anything,” Myka said, the briefest of smiles crossing her face as she handed the paper to the woman.

“I will see what I can do,” Helena putting on her best smile, which, if she was being honest, was not a chore, the curly haired beauty had been invading her dreams since the book signing. 

Thoughts of taking, of slowly filling herself with this life force from the green-eyed beauty had overwhelmed Helena on many a night from their first meeting, her tossing Nate aside after he was spent. Helena imagining the heated words of her name rolling off soft lips, green eyes blown black from lust. The throes of passion and an unending orgasm pumping the sweetness of the blood past Helena’s lips.

One fantasy, in particular had kept playing in Helena’s mind as she muddled through Nate’s amores passions with her, each thrust of his hips enunciated every scene to play out;

...

The first glimpse of those curly locks, watching from the shadows of the corner of a dark bar. Helena moisten her lips as she watched the slender throat push the harsh liquid down. Her then silently stalking the beauty out the door.

Helena’s smirk would file across her mouth as the unsuspecting woman entered into the dark alley, foolish human, Helena would whisper as she stalks her prey.

“Not another step closer!” Myka spinning around, some electrical gadget held firmly in her hands. Helena would lean back, hands raised as her eyes raked up those long legs.

“I wish you no harm,” dropping her voice an octave, willing the honey-laced words to drift over to the tall woman. Helena then willing herself to rein in her ego as the woman would train the weapon on her. Her feet stilled in place as Helena stalked forward.

“What do you want?” the heavenly fright in the voice would float around her ears.

“You, all of you,” Helena’s words passing over her smile as she would reach for the young woman’s hand, their fingers threading, causing the weapon to drop from Myka’s hand.

Helena would grin as the woman shoved her against the cold bricks of the alleyway, her fingers tightening around the firm grip of the taller woman's hand at her throat. A moan escaping her as the firm thigh forcibly pushed between her legs.

“Oh yeah? Just me, you want?” a lopsided grin spreading across full lips as the moonlight highlighted the faint hues of auburn in those dark, curly locks. Helena then forcing down a hard swallow as the firm thigh muscle from the younger woman pressed at her core.

“And what about, what I want?” Myka’s voice dipping down in timbre caused a shiver to race up Helena’s spine. Her words escaping her mind as Myka’s thumb and forefinger squeezed roughly against her hardened nipple. Helena letting the young prey explore with abandon as she lifted her leg to wrap around the girl’s hip.

“More,” Helena’s voice hoarse from lust as the woman reached around, gripped her leg, strong fingers digging into her flesh, increasing the rough thrusts against her center.

“You want, … need, more of me?” Myka’s hot breath brushing against her ear.

“Yes, Darling,” Helena baring her teeth against the soft skin lining the long neck, the blade be damned as she sunk her teeth in that sweet spot so she dearly loved. The moans becoming gurgles as the blood raced from the small bite, blood flooding Helena’s throat. Their hips canton against one another’s as sanguination overcame the younger woman.

...

Helena cleared her throat, repressing the phantom feel of the doctors life blood sliding down her throat as she smiled, putting the small piece of paper in her pocket.

Myka nodding as she exited her door, making way for the portly man. His badge raised as they both turned, watching the young woman walk away. The sway of Myka’s hips, the firm backside not lost upon Helena.

“Detective Neilson to see Mrs Wells,” he stated as his head turned back to the woman in the doorway

“Welcome Detective Neilson, good cheer,” Helena said as she opened her door wider, showing the man in. She walked up the stairs, showing the detective to the solarium.

“We are looking into the disappearance of Claudia Donovan, Mrs Wells.” The well aged detective in awe at the plants and the sun shining down as he took in the whole room.

“Not exactly heaven,” he mumbled.

“Not exactly,” Helena whispered as she raised her head. Then remembering she had to deter the Detective from what Nate had done.

 

“She is my student, every Monday, Wednesday and Friday, but I have been out of town. So I have not seen her,” Helena replied. The hair on the back of her neck stood up, her reaching into her pocket.

Myka was feeling as if she was floating on air. She had been guilt ridden at how she had treated Mr Wells, then, her eyes met black, melting away all guilt. After she had given Helena her home number … Mrs Wells, her personal number, wanting to help her husband …

Myka dug into her pocket of her jacket, fumbling for the smokes there. She swayed her hips, feeling a bit aroused as she crossed the street, her flame flickering.

Helena was answering every question detective Neilson was asking, but, a feel of dread washed over her, stumbling her fingers in her coat, a sigh of relief washed over her as her fingers touched the hand written note. Then pressing it to her lips.

Myka was in a daze as she crossed the street between parked cars, her attention on lighting her smoke.

Helena sucked in a shaky breath as she pressed the small note firmer to her lips. Her minds eyes was filled with blood and pain as she willed her thoughts to the curly haired doctor that invaded her thoughts.

The semi shook to a unearthly stop, the smell of burnt tire treads and hot, glazed brakes filled the air. Myka’s cigarette drooping from her lips as all froze, her eyes as wide as the drivers as his rig suddenly stop dead on the road. Her body shook from a foreign feel, dark eyes filling her thoughts as a wave of security washed over her for a brief second, then pulling the cigarette from her lips, realizing her life almost ended at the over sized truck that was mere inches from her, then racing across the street.

 

…

 

Myka had pushed Pete away from her when he had jumped into the shower with her, Myka giving a lame excuse of a head ache as she slammed the shower stall shut. A wave of melancholy washed over her as she tried her best to clean herself from the smell of cigarettes and burnt tire treads.

Myka leaned against the cold tile, her thighs tightening as she realized her fingers had drifted down her stomach, pressing into her wet folds, only to groan at the lack of another’s hand, a woman’s fingers she so wished was invading her. Wanting, wishing for the flush of a soft body pressing against her back as soft lips kissed her shoulder. She thought, or so she assumed, a hunger of lust was building in her only to jump at the chill, cursing the lack of production from their water heater.

The pull of dark eyes had clouded her thoughts as she toweled her curls, looking up, green eyes widen at the glimpse of raven hair in her bathroom mirror. She grabbed at it, swinging the vanity mirror open, only to be met with the image of Pete getting into bed. She sighed, a frown then growing as she combed through her wet curls.

“Must have been a bad lunch,” willing herself to believe the lame excuses at seeing Helena in her bathroom mirror.

Myka had thought a good roll in the hay with Pete would satisfy her longing as she pushed away thoughts of her straddling the dark-haired beauty. Her eyes started to mist as she all but shoved him away earlier in the shower as she had soaped her curls, the sound of the phone ringing was almost deafening. Deep down, she hoped she would receive a call from the black haired beauty she had just met.

Myka pushed Pete away as she turned, hugging her pillow close as Pete had told her there was no ringing phone.

Helena felt she should have some sort of guilt, some remorse for Nate’s passing, playing a solemn tune on the piano, a tear running down her cheek as she grieved for the loss of the two mates.

Myka was ansty, turning over, gripping her pillow, she stared at the wall for hours, her mind racing, then wiping at a single tear that ran down her cheek, her thumb brushing it away. A soft, melancholy tune echoed in her head.

Her heart was breaking, but for who?

…

“Hello?” the silence filling her ears as she held the phone, “Hello?” her voice curt.

“Barb, did you just buzz me?” Myka asked after she pressed the com.

“Nope,” her assistant sighed, this last com call from her boss now totaled …

“Just as the last thirteen times this morning, no calls, Dr Bering,” Myka’s assistant huffed.

Myka sighed as she looked over her files after hanging up her phone, the feeling of uneasiness was filling her all morning, answering the phantom ring of the phone for the umptenth time. Reading over the data, the lines blurring, none of the words coherent as Myka strained to concentrate. To rid those obsidian eyes from her head. 

The annoyance in her secretary's voice triggered reminders of the confrontation with Pete from the night before. She blinked away the fight her and Pete had that night, willing her mind to lull into lustful thoughts of the raven haired beauty that invaded her short slumber.

She shut her eyes at remembering his grumbling as she pushed him off her, “What the hell?” Pete had said as he turned his back on her, none the wiser to her mood as Myka hugged her pillow, the soft sobs lost on him as he drifted to sleep.

The whole night was a struggle for Myka, her body exhausted but her mind racing at thoughts of Mr Wells, of Helena, no, Mrs Wells and those eyes.

She tossed her files to the side as she finally gave up, her not being able to think of anything else but the woman.

“Barb, hold my calls, I’m going out for the day,” Myka said as she yelled over her shoulder, shrugging her jacket on over her thin white t- shirt.

“Hey, everything okay?” Leena asked as Myka tried to rush out of her office.

“Fine, just need some time,” Myka said as she grabbed her satchel from the chair, rushing the door. “Just need a day off,”

Steve was just bringing a tray of coffee in, turning to avoid Myka’s exit. His eyes flashing at Leena. “Since when does she take a day off?” as he held the tray of coffee over their heads as Myka rushed out.

Leena just shrugged as she took the steaming liquid, “Since now?”

...

 

Helena smiled as she glanced at the monitor, unlocking the door. She returned the younger woman’s smile after watching her run those enchanting fingers through curly, brown locks.

Their gaze meeting each others as Myka gave a blush,

“I don’t know why I am here,”

Myka had grabbed the first cab in line in front of the clinic, rambling off the address from her research of the Wells Brownstone from the day she had hunted down Mr Wells. 

Still in a trance as the cab braked sharply in front of the home. She had tossed a few bills at the gruff cabbie, in a haze as her feet lead her to the ornate door.

If you had asked Myka how she had ended up on the stoop of one Mrs Helena Wells, the dumbfounded look would have been enough said. The full lips opening and closing as no sound was forth coming.

Helena just smiled as she opened the door further, watching the woman pass by her. Her breath was ragged as she pressed her back against the door, watching Myka set her satchel down on the table in the foyer as if she had lived there.

“Please, make yourself at home, Dr Bering” Helena smirked as her hand brushed across the strong shoulders of the tall woman. Then entwining their fingers, Helena lead them both into her parlour.

“Just Myka, please, Mrs Wells,”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No Beta, all mistakes are mine. I own nothing of Syfy or MGM.

Myka was stunned back into reality as her fingers traced the sharp cheekbones, the full lips and defined jaw.

“Sherry?” Helena asked.

Myka breath caught as she watched the woman enter the room, two ornate glasses in her hand, her own hand jerking away from the cold marble bust.

“She kind of looks like you?” Myka stumbled as her one hand, the feel of the cold marble still lingering, was shoved deep into her pants pocket. Her other hand reaching for the glass, trying, and failing miserably to ignore the spark of electricity that shot up her arm.

“You think so?” Helena retorted, feeling, before observing, the uncomfortableness building in the taller woman’s shoulders.

“Well, yeah … sort of,” Myka’s hand just not quite brushing her own loose curls as she waved her hand. “You know, the hair …” Myka then scrunching her nose at the smell of the Sherry.

“Cheers,” Helena whispered as she raised her glass. Myka then smiling shyly as she raised her own glass.

Helena could feel the conflict warring inside the young woman, thoughts of lust waged over deep seated guilt and shame … something Helena could not quite see. ‘A parent?’ she theorized, had once scared this beautiful soul from her true passion.

Myka wandered around, the room feeling more like wing in some small museum, then a home. Her eyes darting away at each glance from Helena, her fingers tracing over the Cello that sat in the corner of the room as Helena played.

“I hope I am not holding you from anything?”

“Such as?” Helena smiled as she then studiously kept her eyes trained on the keys, wanting the woman to relax, to find her hidden self and to release the repressed desires buried deep, for so long.

“I don’t know …” Myka turning her gaze away from her, her eyes down cast toward her libation, “lunches and trips to the museum to fill your time,” Myka said, her boldness rising as she neared the piano, “Are you lonely? I mean … now that your husband is … away?”

Helena just smiled, turning her attention back to her piano, feeling a sadness at her loneliness, only to be fretted away by a small surge of jealousy radiating from the doctor, then as quickly as it surged, Helena felt it ebb back. To be replaced by a hint longing and curiosity.

 

“What is that you are playing?” Myka asked, the Sherry, and something else, caused her hips to sway as she passed by Helena, the warmth was palpable as Myka smiled, feeling the sweet sting of the amber liquid down her throat.

“It’s Lakme by Delibes,” Helena replied, her eyes staring down at black and white as she concentrated on the ivory keys. 

“Lakme?” Myka questioned as she rounded Helena, the heat not lost on the older woman as she passed near, Myka then sitting on a chair near her, tossing her long leg over the arm of the chair, a boldness that she would have never let show. “What is it about?” Myka asked as she leaned forward, giving the beauty before her, her undivided attention.

“It is the story of a Brahman princess and her slave named Monleka,”

“Monleka?” Myka interrupted as she sipped on her Sherry. 

Helena turned from the piano, flashing a grin to the woman, turning as she continued to tell the story.

“They sing as they follow the stream to it’s source, gliding over the water,” Helena smiled to herself as she played.

“Is it a love song, Mrs Wells?” Myka shifting her eyes down as she rubbed her fingers together, a nervous tick she had picked up years before. The overwhelming pull of love … lust, yes lust drew her to long repressed memories;  
xxx  
As a doctor at the clinic, she had seen first hand the prejudice against anything resembling gay. In thanks to the AIDS outbreak in the past few years. She had always repressed her desires, her lust for the fair sex, mostly in fear at her father’s words.

“Those damn heathens deserve what God has given them,” he retorted one night on the phone with his daughter. Jeannie had been expressing her fears of Myka contracting the disease.

“Mom, really, I’m fine. Its field research with monkeys, no human contact,” Myka had smiled into the phone as her mom worried. She rubbed the back of her neck, pacing the apartment she shared with Pete as she heard her father grab the phone from her mother.

“You steer clear of those queers,” Mr Bering had shouted into the phone, Myka holding the ear piece away as he spouted his hate.

Ever since she was a young child, she knew she was different. Once hiding away in the attic of her parents bookstore after she had purchased a copy of ‘The Well of Loneliness’ from a rival bookstore. She had felt like an outsider, peering through the outside window into a world just out of her grasp. 

Myka had sighed in relief when she had met Pete in college, her ‘beard’ and best friend for so many years until the pressure of the world and her parents forced her into his bed.

She dared one time to tell him of a drunken tryst with another girl at a Frat party they had attended their sophomore year. Pete wagging his eyebrows, the Neanderthal quip was not lost on her, “Can I watch” he asked in a drunken stupor, just before he attended his first AA meeting. Myka sitting at the rear of the room, sipping on bad coffee and nibbling on a cheap cookie as she watched him with a wink and sure smile as he took his white chip.

So she chose to hide her proclivity toward the fairer sex, forcing herself to accept the invitation from their sophomore year. Ever since, they had been joined at the hip.

That one slip, the year she had a break between graduation and her residency ship when she spent half the year at her parents bookstore;

The bell had rung over the door of the book store; her father was in New York bidding on a rare HG Wells first edition. Dark hair billowed from the harsh winter winds as the young woman strode into the store. “Welcome to Bering and Sons, anything I can help you with?” Myka had said automatically, her nose buried in a book as she felt the heat from the young woman invade her personal space.

“The present of those green eyes at LaSpada’s for dinner this Friday night?” Dark hazel eyes training on her’s as they both held their breath.

“Chrissy!” Myka whispered, not looking up as she closed the folio she was reading. Her leaning back into the warm embrace of her collage tryst. 

“Pick you up on the corner at six?” she whispered against the shell of Myka’s ear.

Myka sighed as she leaned against the warmth of the embrace, “Make it down by the hardwood store at seven,” Myka whispered as she leaned her head back on that slim shoulder.

“Myka, your dad will be …” Jeannie stopping short as she stumbled around the book case.

“So how bad did your mom freak?” Chrissy asked, Myka entranced as she watched the thin strip of pasta slip past her lips.

“Not as bad as my Dad, if she had told him,” Myka shrugged as she sipped the last of the wine from her glass. Then watching as Chrissy poured some of the semi- good Merlot, her fingers pressing around the wicker on the bottle, filling Myka’s glass. “Easy there, you trying to get me drunk?” Myka smiled over the rim of her glass.

“Maybe?” Chrissy smirked, “As I remember, red wine plus Myka equals heaven,” she smiled.

“I can’t, really. My parents are paying for everything and I am so close to this new job in New York and …” Myka’s face turning red as she rambled.

“Hey! Breath there Mykes,” Chrissy replied, her thumb soothing over Myka’s hand, “I’m just here for a few days before I hit UCLA. I was just hoping you and I might … enjoy each other before I head west?”

“Maybe,” Myka said with a shaky breath, then downing the last of the cheap wine from her glass, “Only if you play your cards right,” Myka then grinned, tossing some bills down to cover their meal as she got up, ”You coming?” she asked, grabbing the the bottle off the table as Chrissy followed out the door of the little Italian restaurant.

“You … are such a … bottom,” Chrissy rasped in Myka’s ear. They had parked in a secluded alley, the car running to keep the heat flowing. 

“Screw you,” Myka moaned as Chrissy lifted her leg over the parking brake, pressing her two fingers deeper.

“Bottom, my ass,” Myka growled as she rolled them both over, her ass pressing against Chrissy’s steering wheel as Myka latched onto her neck, her teeth nipping as she pushed her long fingers into her former college tryst.

The slight gasp of pain from Chrissy caused Myka to still her hand, biting Chrissy’s lower lip as the girl’s fingers tangled in her curls.

“Myka … please,” the pain at the yanking of Myka’s hair caused her head to dart up, her eyes scanning up and down Chrissy face as she started to remove her fingers. “No, don't you dare leave me like this,” Chrissy pleaded.

Myka kissed the tears streaming down the girls cheeks as Chrissy grabbed Myka’s hand, her hips thrusting deeper into her fingers. Her whimpers caused a flood of tears down Myka’s cheeks, her face taut as Chrissy gripped her face with both hands, forcing Myka’s lips toward the trickle of blood that was now running down from the bite of her bottom lip.

“Don’t …” Chrissy’s words cut short as the wave of ecstasy washed over her body, her hips thrusting up against her palm as Myka licked and cleaned every drop of red off her chin. The taste of copper, of her, forever burned into her memory.

 

xxx

 

“It sounds like a love song,” Myka responded. The sound of her voice shook Helena from the shared memory of Myka’s past, of her blood lust and dominance over the young girl from her past.

Myka’s eyes flicked back up at the woman, her nerves shaking as she waited. Too long she had been in the closet, the fear grating at her.

Myka could no longer take the silence, breathing a deep breath, she asked;

“Are you hitting on me, Mrs Wells?” Myka’s nerves spiking up as her eyes shot down.

“Helena,” she answered, trying her best to hide her heart’s pounding at the stolen glimpse of Myka’s past, Myka none the wiser.

“Helena?” the full sensation of her name rolling off her lips.

 

“None that I am aware of, Myka,” Helena replied. A smirk playing at the corner of her mouth, repressing the urge to grab, to have Myka whimpering under her. Helena knew, all too well, that time and letting her prey, her Myka, come in to her own, was needed.

 

Myka shook her head, her lopsided grin spreading as she sipped her drink, a drop of vermillion liquid then spilling on her white t-shirt.

“Oh no,” Myka whined. She tugged a tissue from her pocket as she tried to wipe the stain from the white of her shirt, shooting up from her seat.

Helena smiled inwardly to herself as she closed the lid to the piano, “I have something you can change into,” Helena smiled. Myka lifted her eyes as she watched Helena leave the room, trying her best to remove the stain from her shirt.

Myka puffed her chest out, gripping at the hem of her white t shirt, tugging it tighter against her breasts as she wiped at the stain. Only seconds passed as she watched the older woman saunter to her, a smile playing across her lips. 

“All I have is a towel,” the low timber from the woman shot straight through her, silently cursing herself as her body reacted to the phantom touch of the woman’s haunting voice.

Helena crossed her legs on the chair near her as she sat down, the towel dangling from her hand as she watched the younger woman turn away from her searing gaze, her smile growing as she watched Myka bend her head, the blush fading as the younger woman turned away, removing the white t-shirt off her body.

Helena gasped at the sight of strong back muscles flexing as Myka removed her shirt.

“Years of jogging and working out finally paying off,” Myka smirked to herself. Her blush rushing as to her cheeks at the presumption of egotistical thoughts as she turned.

“Where is this ego coming from?” Myka thought, then her blush growing full hilt as she remembered she was not wearing a bra. “My, god,” she rushed under her breath. “I’ve never gone a day since thirteen without wearing a bra,” she panicked. Highly aware of her harden nipples.

Myka then felt a wave of serenity wash over her, a feel of confidence as she turned, her chest bare as she held the soiled shirt in her hand, tentatively holding it out as the older woman uncrossed her legs. A lascivious smile curling Helena’s lips, her push of longing had overcome Myka’s insecurity, ‘well needed’ Helena thought as she stalked toward the younger woman.

Helena cursed inwardly, trying to control Myka’s fears of inadequacy, her hand shaking as she reached for the soiled garment. Her fingers sliding across unsure fingers as she handed the white cloth to the younger woman. Her smile a sly crescendo across her lips as she saw green eyes sparkle, pupils blown dark by lust from Helena’s wanton desires for this beauty.

This seduction was her most heartfelt, the most thrilling. The hunt, the trap, the capture of lust, of now, the soul. But Myka was so much more than just the conquest, a meal. Helena’s heart coming to life as no other had caused.

Her mind clouded over, her blood lust was quelled by emotions, that small muscle she thought was dead now guiding her every move, her every breath. In the short time spent with the young doctor, Helena knew she was to become her mate.

Helena sucked in a sharp intake of air, her fingers then tentatively feeling strong chest muscles, the push with each excited breath against her fingertips as her hand slid upward, the stiffening of Myka’s nipples brushing against her palms. Her breath catching in her throat as Helena felt the thumping of Myka’s heart beat upon her fingertips, watching as the younger woman moisten her lips. 

Her own moistened her bottom lip, feeling the overpowering desire from within Myka, the desperate need of theirs lips, their bodies to become one. Helena slid her fingers up to the base of Myka’s neck, the soft, fine curls tickling the pads of her fingers as she wrapped them around the younger woman’s neck, drawing their lips together.

Myka released her held breath as she felt Helena’s lips gracing hers. A kiss so soft, urgent, but so pleading in the same breath. Myka’s head was muddled with thoughts racing everywhere, of Chrissy, of her father’s harsh words.

 

The soft moan from the pressing against Helena’s body shook all hesitations from her, her next semi-coherent thought was the feel of Helena’s pure, cool skin against hers. The firm tongue drawing what little thought Myka had into submission as Helena’s lips and teeth nipped at her hip bone.

Somewhere between the music room and the bedroom, Myka had lost time as she fell into Helena’s bed. The seduction, flashes of clothes removed, of skin bared with the slip of Helena’s dress over her fingers. Myka released a loud groan at the fresh memory of Helena kissing down her quivering stomach muscles. The older woman, on her knees, slid her slacks down, nugging her leg to lift up as to allow her to divest her completely. Her body shaking as Helena left heated, searing seals of her lips up Myka’s long legs.

“You are Aphrodite, incarnate,” Helena rasped against the shell of her ear as she laid them both down. Myka’s tangled fingers through black locks caused a sharp gasp of air. Myka tilting that heavenly face upward with a firm tug at those raven locks that slipped through her fingers, green meeting black as she leaned down, kissing the furrowed brow.

“Then show me,” Myka whispered, her eyes pleading, fingers sure.

“As you wish,” the deep-throated growl escaping from Helena’s soul.

 

“Yours,” the sound foreign to Helena’s ears as it escaped from Myka’s lips, hips bucking in wild abandon. 

“Mine,” Helena growling into Myka’s soft folds. The sharp force of fingers digging into Myka’s hip bones, grateful for what little coherent thought remained, stilled them down into the soft, downy bed. That rough, firm tongue conducting her body to a height of bliss she had never before experienced.

Myka was completely lost in her haze, her orgasm was lulling into submission, but still causing shivers throughout her thighs as Helena slid up her body. Helena’s arm held her weight, her body resting against Myka’s, their lips barely brushing together as Helena breathed in every gasp Myka exhaled.  
Her own body starting to convulse in rhythm as Myka’s next wave started to overcome them both. Helena gripped into curly locks as she rested on her elbow, lips parted in a silent gasp as Myka had turned her head, biting into the crook of her arm to muffle her cries.  
xxxxx  
“If you tear into the jugular, it will keep spewing,” Helena remarked, tossing a cross hand at the screen of the old black and white horror movie. “The firm vein in the arm makes much more sense. It closing and beating what blood out till you finish,” Helena huffed.

“You are so twisted,” Claudia quipped as she popped the kernels of corn into her mouth. That night of babysitting, months ago, was spent by the two younger ones, watching TV. Helena had glanced over her book, inwardly disgusted at that foul little box.

“Never question a genius,” Nate replied.

“Whatever,” Claudia said as she jumped up, switching channels.

The look from Claudia caused Helena to quell her erant thoughts of tossing that damn box right out the window, her eyes dancing sideways, “What? It is much more feasible to intake blood from the arm vein so as not to kill the donor,”

“You would make the worst movie director, ever” Claudia had said as she plopped back down on the sofa next to Nate.  
xxxxx  
The quell of the room, the buzz filling her ears as strong fingers tangled in her curls, guided her mouth firmer against her arm. Myka biting, then her eyes rolling back as the taste of copper filled her mouth, the feel of Helena inside her, in every way, erased all thoughts hate, of fear. A wave of serenity, of belonging, of being desired and needed filled her soul. 

 

Helena’s hips rolled as her back arched, her passion building as Myka’s inner struggle gave way, her body hummed from the sudden awakening of this beauty below her, drawing her life force into her.

“More,” Myka pleaded as Helena pulled her away from her arm, rolling the younger woman over.

“Enough for you,” Helena whispered as she pulled the younger woman on top of her body, her fingers stroking Myka’s passion. 

Helena was trying her best to control the animal desire to rip open the taunt arm that brushed against her head, her lips then clasping onto the nook of Myka’s arm, biting, releasing the blood she so craved as Myka’s hips bucked with wild abandon against her core. Her fingers digging at the base of Myka’s neck as the younger woman’s mouth latched on to her shoulder, her lips drinking in the wild pulsing as Myka’s climax built.

Helena sucked in a harsh breath, her head shooting up at the woman’s gasp, the confession of love. Black falling into green, her thumb wiping at the trickle of blood running at the corner of her lips as her hand came up, stilling all. The pad of her thumb wiping away the saline stream as she kissed Myka’s cheeks.

“My, Love?” Helena whispered, never, in twenty centuries had those words ever been uttered from her lips.

“Please, Helena. More,” Myka pleaded as she let unearthly strong fingers guide her head to the warm nook of the older women’s arm.

 

…

“You sent back the clams?” Pete questioned, his head down, his eyes up as he watched Myka cross her knife and fork. The blood running from the rare steak across the white plate Myka had ordered.

“I thought I wanted them,” Myka replied as she sipped her red wine.

“And you ordered your steak, rare,” Pete said, his fork spearing the red meat.

“Something wrong?” he chewed.

“No, I thought I was hungry,” Myka sighed, pulling a cigarette out of her satchel.

“Here,” Pete quipped holding his lighter as Myka leaned in to the flame. Her eyes dancing to the nude figure of a woman swimming in the pool near the full length glass of the hotel restaurant.

“So, what the hell is wrong?” he huffed, wiping his chin, his eyes followed hers as she watched the young woman swim.

“What?” Myka respond.

“As in what the hell is wrong with you? You've been spaced out since you visited whats her name?” Pete huffed as he tossed his napkin down, them both watching as the white linen soaked the red.

“What the hell is wrong with you? I went to check on her because her husband is wasting away in some clinic, she has no one …” Myka gulping down her anger with the last of her wine.

“And what is that?” Pete asked as Myka’s fingers gripped the gold chain. Pouring more wine for her as he sipped his club soda.

“Its an Unke,” Myka proudly said as she held it out. “It’s Egyptian, Helena … Mrs Wells gave it to me,” Myka swallowed as she darted her eyes down at her lit smoke, tapping it against the ashtray.

“You just met her and she gives you a present?” he questioned.

“She is European,” Myka shrugged, letting the gold fall between her breasts into the folds of her shirt. Her hand wrapping around the glass of wine as she sipped it. Her eyes following as the two women kissed.

Her eyes then wide, hidden behind the wine glass as she looked on, both women were fully dressed, idely chatting to one another.

“What the hell?” Myka whispered to herself.

…

The night was a blur, all Myka could remember was her death grip on the toilet, pushing Pete back as he tried to comfort her. After a restless night, they both dressed quickly, Pete on the phone as he eyed Myka, ”Steve and Leena are waiting for us. Are you sure you don’t want to see a doctor?” holding his hand over the receiver.

“I am a doctor,” Myka spat out as she grabbed her coat, “Lets get this over with,” she said as she stormed out of their apartment.

“See you guys soon,” Pete then hanging up the phone, out of breath as he tried to catch up to Myka.

The ride to the clinic was tense, to say the least. Myka was subconsciously rubbing at her arm as she tried to will the morning Manhattan rush hour traffic to part. Not wanting to spend any more time inclosed with the man. All her thoughts were trained on the woman who haunted her every thought. Slamming the door behind, not waiting for Pete, she raced up the steps, her thighs burned for other reasons as she took the steps two at a time.

...

“She’s ravenous and can’t eat,” Pete voice echoing as he left the room, not wanting to be there as Myka watched Steve draw her blood.

“Any new bruises?” was a whisper as she leaned in, letting Leena light her cigarette, she jumped from the sharp pain at Steve pressing on her arm to guide her to the microscope after he had put both slides in.

“What,?” Myka mumbled as she looked in to the microscope, watching as the two blood cells warred against each other.

“Roll up your sleeve ...Please?” Steve asked as Myka sat back.

“What is that?” Steve asked as he pressed his finger against the angry red spot on the inner part of Myka’s elbow.

“Nothing, just a bite,” Myka waving off the thought of how it was made, then shrugging his arm away as a flash of a smile, of black locks between her thighs, her fingers tangled, guiding them, caused her to draw a harsh toke on her cigarette.

“Okay, Steve. You said the two strains are fighting for dominance,” she sighed, then turning to her assistant.

“ So, who is winning?”

Myka just nodded as Steve looked at the ground.

 

…

“Right now my colleagues think I am at the leading blood specialist, but instead, I came here,” Myka growled as she watched Helena lean against her fire place. Myka paced as she rubbed her neck, waiting for some response.

“And what have you told them?” Helena asked, her voice calm as she watched the younger woman pace around the room.

“Nothing!” Myka all but yelled.

Myka was becoming more agitated from Helena’s non response and wondering how things changed so quickly in 24 hours. The pain from rubbing her arm jolted her, the anger welling up inside could no longer be contained.

“I trusted you and look what happened!” yanking her sleeve up on her rain coat.

“It’s a bruise, it’ll fade,” Helena remarked. Her eyes darting away at the painful mark. Herself wishing she had not caused so much pain.

“I know it is a bruise, again. What have you done to me?” Myka's voice laced with fear, trying to will herself to be strong.

 

“I have given you something you could only dare dream of, everlasting life,” Helena’s voice cool in her response.

“Well, if I had known that,” Myka’s sarcasm filling the room, her pacing halted as she turned, the fear and panic turning to anger. 

“I know it is a god damn bruise, Helena! Again, what have you done to me!” Myka’s was now in full on panic as the coolness from the woman she let love her … the betrayal becoming unbearable, her hands fisting, blood drawn as her nails dug into her palms. Her mind snapping as all reason waved goodbye in her mind.

“I am tired of all your bullshit!” Myka snapping, rushing at the woman. She grabbed at her lapel, yanking the woman against her, “I am tired of all your shit, what have you done to me!”

“Enough!” Helena’s cool repose fanishing, lifting the taller woman off her feet, she tossed her, as if a rag doll, across the room. Myka’s body slamming into the book case. She groaned as she cleared her eyes, looking up at the woman she thought she fell in love with.

“I made a simple incision,” Helena’s voice cold as she rolled up her sleeve, “You drank my blood, then I, yours”

“You're crazy,” Myka whispered as she steadied herself, slowly pushing herself up.

“I am bleeding your veins with mine, you belong to me, we belong to each other,” Helena’s voice raised, a possessiveness laced her words as she watched the younger woman run down her stairs.

“You're crazy!” Myka yelled over her shoulder as she raced down the casing.

“You will need me. When the hunger is too much, you will need to feed, and then you will need me to show you how!” Helena yelled as she watched Myka lunge for the front door.

 

“Your fucking crazy,” Myka spat out as she slammed the door behind her.

Helena did not flinch as the door slammed shut, but instead felt the trickle, she raised a finger to the cut on her cheek. Wiping with her finger, she stared at the drop of blood on her finger. She smiled as she licked the droplet off, turning as she readied her home for Myka’s return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was debating on how closely I wanted to follow the movie, then after watching for the umteenth time, I decided a little background wouldn't hurt. Thoughts?


	5. Chapter 5

A/N Thank you ‘Greedy reader’ for your review. I had already planned the ending for this story, seeing as I was also dissatisfied with the ending of the book and movie. So, Yes. I do accept your challenge.

Trigger warning: Major death scenes for multiple characters.

Disclaimer: I own nothing of Syfy or MGM.

 

Myka was raging as she rushed down the street. Her only rational thought was to get as far away as she could from the woman she thought she trusted.

“Taxi!”

She yelled, waving her arm in the air at the yellow cab, only to have herself jumping back on the curb as it sped by, blaring its horn.

“Damn it!” she cursed under her breath, rubbing at the bite on her arm as she raced to another cab that had parked across the street. She slammed the door, cursing as someone else claimed the cab.

Helena smirked to herself as she tidied up the living room where they had their last altercation. ‘Their first fight’, she chuckled to herself. All her former loves had reacted in similar fashion; confused, afraid, them blinded by fear as they all tried to escape in some form or fashion as the transformation began it’s steely grip over them.

Helena could feel the raging hunger building in the doctor, her willing away any and all transportation that the young woman tried to garner.

Myka raced to the payphone on the corner of the street, her fingers missing the slot a few times as they shook violently at trying to put the coin in the slot. She wiped at her brow with her arm, her curls now wild, sweat soaked and harshly curled as she tried her utmost to dial the number.

“Yes, Hello. I would like to speak to Dr. Pete Lattimer,” Her voice unsteady as she listened to his secretary, “No, I already tried him at our apartment,” Myka’s hand gripped the side, her other shaking the receiver against her ear.

“No, he can’t call me back, I’m at a booth,” Myka’s words coming out in an almost panic as she tried to steady her violent craving. Her eyes blown wide, sweat stinging them as it rolled down her furrowed brow. “No, never mind … yeah, I’ll try him later. Never mind,” she ranted as she slammed the receiver down. Only to immediately pick it up at it’s ringing.

Only a buzz and empty dial tone was heard, her glazed green eyes then shooting to the image of Helena looking up at her. She blinked, staring agaped at the image she thought she saw.

“Say, Lady. What about it?” A greasy-haired man standing near caused her jump, then slamming the receiver down again, her forehead resting against it as she tried to control her shaking. Myka looked up, only empty space was had at where she thought she saw Helena near the old oak tree.

“Yeah lady, how about it?” The other man then followed, Myka’s eyes wide, shocked at the medallion around his neck. His fingers toyed with it as her eyes grew wider, Myka then sprinting off, swearing it was the Unke Helena had given her, her fingers gripping then around her own that hung around her sweat-stained blouse.

“Crazy fucking junkie,” The other man laughed, cigarette between his fingers as the other young man toyed at the crucifix around his neck.

...

Helena held the curtain back, watching from her second floor Brownstone as Myka approached, walking down the rain slick road instead of the sidewalk. The young woman had wrapped her rain coat around herself, arms in a death grip around her waist. Knuckles turned white at the harsh grip. A car horn blared, causing Myka to jump against a parked car, her head then falling against the roof of the car. Her shoulders slumped at the realization of where her boot clad feet had lead her.

Helena let the white curtain fall away, her face turning somber as she rushed down towards the door. Myka stood before the ornate, solid barrier, sighing, her head bowed in submission. Her will was broken, her body screaming for what, she hadn’t the first clue. She wiped hard at her cheek with the heel of her palm, tears and sweat now indistinguishable as she studied her boot tips.

The door opened, not a word was spoken as an waton need compiled her to move inside the spider’s den. Helena knew this was the tipping point, the hunger becoming all-consuming as she ran her fingers through sweat laden locks. Sickly sweat leiden ringlets curled around her fingers, the push of the all consuming need to feed drew a sharp breath from the vampire.

Helena had lead Myka to the bedroom, her eyes downcast as she undressed her soon to be mate. Her heart skipping a beat at Myka’s pleads of what was happening to her.

“I’m going to bring something to you. Someone, who can fill your hunger,” Helena’s voice was distant, but reassuring as it found it’s way through Myka’s haze. Lowering her sunglasses, the need to see and feel those green eyes upon her, Myka’s fingers brushed against the scarf Helena was wearing. The soft, comforting words brushed at her cheek, her head turning to meet the worried but secure voice. Their lips brushing gently together, Helena pushing all her love against the trembling mouth the could only utter a pitiful plea of release from the hell that was consuming her body.

The black, nondescript car Helena had procured, with some influence and a pint or two of manipulation, pulled up to the seeder side of Broadway. A young, seemly disease free man approached, Helena rolling down the window, holding two fingers up. The young hustler smiled and jumped into the car. Helena smiled as her minds eye focused on the calming breaths Myka was releasing, if, albit, just for a brief moment.

“Not long, my Love. Her words pushing into Myka’s heart.

“Help yourself to a drink,” Helena was saying as she removed her gloves, her fingers then pressing the control. The wet bar spinning on cue, the young hustler’s eyes widen at the premium bottles that beckoned toward him.

...

 

“Hello? Dr Schrader? This is Dr Lattimer calling again in regards to Dr Sarah Roberts,” Pete was saying as he fumbled for a club soda, his hand falling on the bottles of Irish beer Myka was so fond of. His fingers stilling for a brief second on the neck of the dark liquid. The beep from the answering machine causing him to jump. 

“Uhh, yeah, if you could please get back with me … thanks,” Pete hanging the phone up. Him then twisted the top of the pop off, his eyes darting to a crumpled paper near the phone. A Park avenue address was written in Myka’s handwriting.

“Wells,” he hissed against the lip of the club soda bottle.

...

The young hustler grabbed at the premium bottle of vodka, his back against the bookshelf, spitting his gum in the air as he poured a long draw, watching the woman exit the room. He slugged down the first glass, wandering around the lavious room, thick fingers gripping the neck of the bottle, thinking his ship had finally come in.

His curiosity got the better of him as he spied the ornate elevator, glass in hand, his finger pressed the button.

White curtains bellowed softly as Helena approached the bed, removing the last of her disguise as she bent over the bed, her fingers slick from the sweat that laced those wild curls. Myka’s eyes rolled back, giving up on focusing, her shaking fingers gripped at the pale wrist as soft lips pressed a reassuring serenity against them.

“Helloooo?”

Helena’s face contorted at the shrill sound of dinner that rang up from the staircase. “Soon, my, Love.” she whispered against chapped lips, a limp hand clutching at her, trying to draw the beating vein that reverberated in her head closer to her lips.

“Dinner awaits,” Helena whispered against Myka’s lips as she drew away.

Helena was in Hunt mode after she kissed her Myka, knowing just what she needed. She drew back, watching as the elevator stop. The hustler looking, not seeing anything of interest, he pressed the third floor.

The floor that held her heart.

Helena quickened up the stairs, the thrill of the hunt had begun. Nothing was to deter her from nursing her mate. Her mind focused, pushing down the incessant cries of hunger from Myka, her lips curling over white teeth as the thunder of the young man’s pulse filled her ears.

The lift halted at the third floor, the young hustler then gulping down the drink before shaking hands opened the steel curtain door.

“Too easy,” Helena smirked to herself as she rushed the gate, her blade already unsheathed as she clutched the soft, exposed throat, her blade piercing the carotid as she shoved the soft, limp body against the back of her elevator. Her elbow pressing the second floor as she lifted diner up off his feet. 

“Myka?” reverberating in her head, the slow echo of her name drew her from the bed. All strength, all her being, was shaking. She willed herself up off the bed, the incessant cries of her name pounded into her skull. Myka ran a shaky hand through her wet, wild curls as she gripped the handrail of the balcony to steady her convulsing body. The soft clink of her Unke reverberated against the old, Oak banister. Her eyes widen at the scene below her as she clutched at her stomach, the hunger was a deafening strangle that racked her very soul.

Helena was on her knees, her head shaking violently over the exposed mid drift of a young man; “Myka!”, her voice laiden, her words almost jumbled as a piece of was once a human hung at the corner of her mouth.

Myka was trying her best to maintain any semblance of dignity, her green eyes flashing for a microsecond, her tongue tracing at the corner of her mouth at the meal Helena had laid before her. No, wait … he was someone’s son, a human with thoughts and feelings, Myka’s nails splitting as she gripped the banister, her stomach turning at what Helena had laid before her.

 

Myka rushed back to the bedroom, her failing at her muddled thoughts, “I have to get away,” her body failing her as she tried to find her clothes, the heading, the long, drawn satisfaction of a meal filled Myka’s thoughts.

“I can’t,” Myka whispered into the throw rug, her fingers digging, her body gasping as she tried to claw her way out the window.

“Stop fighting your true nature,” the mantra was defined as Helena had first suspected with Myka, a blood lust, unsatisfied. Her mind snapping at Myka’s last vestiges of humanity as she then leaned against the doorframe, her arms crossed under her breasts as she held back long forgotten tears of sympathy. 

“Why have you placed such a wanton need for those in this world?” Helena questioned, her espresso eyes searching for the forest green that surely would melt her heart.

She shuddered at the swell of humanity that crashed over her. Her mate, her Myka, was clawing at the last straws of her humanity. Her eyes hurting, stinging at something that was deathly wrong… the fight, the clawing at saving what vestiges of ‘being human’ refused to release its grip from Myka.

Helena raked her hand over her cheek, her smile fading with the last stroke of blood from her lips. She squared her shoulders, knowing she had to be strong, for Myka, for them.

Helena clicked the lock shut on the door as the echo of the front door alarm rang through their home. ‘Their home’ she smiled, glad she had the foresight to transverse all her accumulation over to a non-descript research foundation in the time Myka had ‘needed’ to find herself.

Helena smiled, her soulless black eyes meeting her reflection as she dried her hands, her thumb wiping away the last trickle of blood from her lips.

“Yes?” Helena knowing damn well who had darken her door at this hour. “Neanderthal,” she spat out under breath as she tried to indulge Myka’s needed meal. 

“Lattimer, Doctor Pete Lattimer,” his voice strained as his eyes darted to the camera outside the door.

“I am a friend of Myka Bering’s. She didn’t come home or meet up with her appointment,” Pete dipping his head, the desperation in his voice was nauseating to Helena.

“She didn’t come home and missed an appointment and I am worried”

Pete’s eyes lit up in surprise as the buzzer sounded. The lock clicking as he made his way in. He was taken aback by the woman before him, in any other text, he would have teased Myka, pleading like a horny teenager for them, all three in bed.

Myka’s body was held still in a fetal position, her blood lust was convulsing, her eyes damping and flinching at every random thought. Helena, had chosen to release her hold over what little sanity held firm over Myka, at that very moment when Pete entered the bedroom. Helena, holding her stomach, refused to let sway her thoughts and feelings… “No, this one is her’s” Helena sighed as she pushed herself away from the door.

...

“Lattimer,” Pete mumbled as he heard the door click behind him.

“I was just worried,” his eyes never leaving the stained oak floor.

“I am afraid she is not well,” Helena doing her best to sound sincere and worried.

“Really?” Pete mumbled. “And where is she?” his finger thumping at the inside of his pocket as his eyes searched over her shoulder.

 

“I am afraid she is quite ill, Dr Lattimer,” Helena letting the concern wash over him.

“Yeah? Which floor?” Pete was mumbling as he raced up the staircase.

 

“Second door on your left,” Helena trying her best to repress her grin, her eyes darting to the man that raced up the stairs. Helena knew, that if there was any chance of her mate bonding with her. That, she, Myka, had to end what ever teather she had to this world.

...

Helena sat back after pouring a hefty drink, her lips curling as she blocked all sight to Myka. She, Helena, needed to know that her mate was her’s and her’s only. If Myka took that man’s life force, they would be bound as ‘one’.

And what a magnificent choice Myka would make. Her beauty was only matched by her brains. If anyone could solve this mystery and prolong her mate. Myka was the ‘one’.

Helena sighed with melancholy as she latched the door closed behind her. She knew Myka had to make her choice.

“What is this?” Pete mumbled as he reached over, his heart in his throat as Myka was in a fetal position, her hunger releasing all pretenses as she grabbed at her stomach.

“Hey, hey .... hey?” Pete whispered as he wrapped Myka in his arms.

 

Myka drew her eye lids in a harsh blink , her fingers tugging at his collar as he sat on the bed.

“Whats going on?” he kept whispering as he tugged Myka against him.

“NO!” Myka shouted as she tried to push Pete away.

“GO!” she yelled, what little strength she had, she tried to push.

“I got you,” Pete kept whispering against the shell of her ear. Her one hand came up, an unearthly strength pushing him back. 

Helena growled as she stopped herself just before the door.The knob bending in her grip as she felt the war, the battle of love for this man that waged in Myka. She drew in a shaky breath as she felt the battle ebbing inside of her doctor.

She sighed, knowing Myka needed to find the hunter within herself. She padded silently down the stairs. The soft hue of the Irish whiskey played at her glass. Her eyes lifted as the chandelier rattled from the slam of the man’s body unto the floor.

 

Helena closed her eyes, the warm liquid washing over her lips, her sighing as her mind’s eyes met that vision of her love’s first taste of prey. The life draining from the man into her very self. Her head thrown back,the gasp of air, the well of longing, the satisfaction of her Myka finally finding her true self. Myka’s body was shaking as the blood coursed through her.

 

She grinned at the loud thump from the ceiling above her. She raided her glass, sipping the god awful Irish Whiskey she knew she would have to endure soon.

… 

Myka cracked one eye, her face buried in the pillow as the soft rustle of what was left of Pete was shoved, unceremoniously into the black bag. The slight pop of her bad shoulder, now not hurting as her body hummed a different release.

Myka sighed, burying her face into the soft downy feather as Helena divested the last of her mortal coil to this earth.

“He was a decent person,” Myka’s sobs muffled.

“If you insist, so shall it be,” Helena’s voice trailing off from the room.

“I shall await you,” Helena’s voice but a mere wisp.

Helena was unsure of what she felt. Myka, unknowing, had blocked her mind's eye after the turn. Helena almost felt hopeless at not knowing of what thoughts graced Myka’s soul.

 

Helena sat at the piano, but no notes were had. Her smile brighten as she felt Myka enter the room. The soft, grey top was stained crimson. The gate in her walk was not unnoticed as Myka entered the room.

Helena closed the lid to the piano. Her eyes never meeting her love’s as she poured them a drink.

“It wasn’t that bad?” Helena asked, watching the beauty nod her head, a shy smile spreading across her lips.

“To us,” Helena cheered as she clinked their glasses, her inner self on heightened alert as she watched Myka nod to her, setting both glasses down, Myka gently kissed Helena.

“I hope, one day. You come to love me as much as I love you,” A softness of an almost plea was heard as Myka felt a boldness rise up. The shy doctor was left in the burning embers along with what was left of Pete, of her old life.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing of Syfy or MGM.  
> No Beta, so all mistakes are mine and mine alone.  
> There will be one more chapter to wrap up this story, thanks for all the views and kudos.

Myka pushed herself from the bed after what felt like an eternity. She had lain, face buried in the pillow after Helena had shut the door. She could hear, with unsettling acuteness, every sound in the house; Helena walking down the stairs with once was her friend and lover. The soft thumps of his bagged head thumping in rhythm as it bounced off each rung of the stairs as Helena headed for the basement and furnace.

She had rolled over, holding her hands to her ears, fighting to push out the screams, the pleads, then the faint wisp of his last breath. Myka squeezed her eyes tight, forcing all thoughts of Helena away, just as herself had just done with Pete’s screams.

Euphoria of strength filled her body, washing over her every muscle, every fiber of her being. She sighed as a grin spread across her lips, her tongue slipping over her bottom lip. Then a wave of nausea crashed into her, the small sliver of a faint snapshot expanded in her mind as the taste of blood coated her throat.

“I’ve killed,” Myka whispered to herself.

'And you shall hunt by my side,' Helena’s words pushing into her mind.

“NO!” Myka shouted as she held her hands against her head, her eyes snapping shut, forcing Helena's voice out.

Myka started to panic, rushing around the room to try and find her clothes. A wave of nausea caused by her changing body forced her to her knees. Her eyes widen in horror as she looked at her reflection from the ornate mirror above the dresser;  
She on her knees, her shirt stained red, and the crimson was caked and drying down her pale throat. Her lips stained, her fingers shaking as she drew two fingers over them, her other hand falling behind her as she steadied herself.

She dared to turn her head, her hand feeling a cool dampness under it, her fingers gripping at the moisture soaked into the carpet she was kneeling on.

“Pete,”

Her voice catching in her throat. She waited for the tears, but none were pressing against the back of her eyes, only the euphoric state of love and serenity filling her heart, her very soul as each second ticked by.

“Helena,”

Myka’s word was an escaped, breathy Mantra that rang in her head, vibrated her vocal cords as she stood up. Her hand gripped the back of the chair sidled up under the dresser. Her fingers running lovingly over the pendent as she stared into the mirror.

“Helena, my soul,” her thoughts of the woman overpowering her with tock of the hand from the grandfather clock that sat stoically in silence. A witness to all that had transpired between them over these past few days.

The chime of the hour, the harsh snapping of wood from her grip on the chair drew her back to the reality of what had happened. Her eyes flicking over to the blood stained carpet behind her, the feel of ‘him’, of the meal, coursing through her veins snapped her mind.

Myka paced the bedroom, her body light, her footfalls soft as to not reveal the war waging inside of her to her heart’s love down below her. Myka stopped, her analytical brain taking over; ‘as one of her kind, my body is above reproach, more stealth and strong. I must use this’ 

Myka summarized as her knowledge of human anatomy raced in her mind. Recalling all medical books and those damn horror books she used to read as others would a comic for mindless entertainment.

“The battle of wills has been tested. I swore an oath to preserve life,” Myka whispered, watching her hand shake as she reached for the bedroom door handle.

“My life, my heart, is damned,”

She whispered her Hippocratic Oath as she rested her forehead against the coolness of the door. Her cursing at her stilled hand on the knob, her heart clawing, tearing to shreds at her rib cage as she fought back the silent pleads of her soul.

“I love you, Helena. Always and forever” her voice a wisp as the sound of the metal clicked, the tumblers moving, releasing her from her former being.

…

Helena smiled as she tilted her back, languishing in the feel of her mate’s lips upon her neck. Not ever had she relinquished such trust to any of her former mates. Her fingers gripping a bit tighter around Myka’s hips as her young doctor nipped at her throat.

“Forever, my love,” 

“What?” Myka mumbled as her hand slid between perfect breasts, her fingers dancing over receptive nipples with the swipe of her thumbs, and then stopping on Helena’s medallion hanging low between her chest.

“Forever and ever,” Helena promised with renewed hope in her heart. For her mate was brilliant and smart, knowing they would both solve this puzzle and keep Myka by her side for all eternity.

Myka was lost to all thoughts she had battled over before coming down, an eternity of planning was tossed by the wayside as she became lost to those lips, to the unearthly pull at her heart. Her young mind slipping for those few moments, letting the wave of love and euphoria that was Helena’s heart.

Myka’s heady moment was lost as she felt the cold gold brush her fingertips, the blade a reminder that snapped her last mortal coil.

Myka’s resolve was sure, a growing need to overpower the woman in her arms, knowing she could never take another's life just so she could prosper, to live.

“Helena,” Myka whispered as she fought to release herself from her weak thoughts. Her senses, her body quaking with desire as Helena laid her tongue across the dried blood that painted her long, slender throat. Her back arching as Helena bit, her humming a low moan at Myka shaking in her arms.

“Enough for you,” Myka growled, repeating Helena’s words at their first blood-letting. Myka hooked her hands under firm thighs, hoisting Helena up and onto the piano. Her smile was an evil one, Helena thought as she propped herself up, the glint in her mates eyes overcame her senses.

Helena’s thighs quivered, only to be stilled by the firm grip of her mate. “My turn,” Myka rasped out against sensitive folds, Helena’s fingers gripping at wild, blood-caked curls.

Myka smiled inwardly to herself as she felt Helena’s strict, protective demure drop, “As the walls of Jericho fall,” Myka whispered against the quivering bundle of nerves. Fingers gripping, thighs tightening against her head as all were abandoned. Helena sub coming to her every touch.

Helena’s dress was bunched around her waist, her caring not about this as she leaned up, her one hand tugging at those curls, “Show me,” she rasped out as she gripped harder, tugging those green eyes to meet with hers.

“Show you, what?” Myka teased against the dancing nerves that quivered against her lips.

“You know damn well what I mean, what I want,” Helena’s words coming out in disjointed breaths, of gasps as she grabbed her young mate’s wrist.

“Lord over me,” Helena growled, “Take me,” her last words a gasp as she forced Myka’s hand between her legs, pushing herself down off the piano, impaling herself on those glorious fingers.

“You are mine,” Helena rasped, her head falling back as Myka bit at the exposed skin between her dress.

“As I am yours,” Myka’s head swimming with lust till her teeth bit at cold metal.

'Do no harm,' the mantra filling her head as her hips bucked against the palm of her hand.

Helena was so lost in her pleasure, her mind wrapped in ecstasy that she had not noticed the unsheathing of her blade.

Myka thrusted with wild abandon as she felt Helena stiffen in her arms, knowing she was just a hair's breadth away from her release.

'Let her come, before you leave,' was all Myka could fathom as she shut her eyes, hard. The grip of Helena’s fingers were a painful bliss, nails digging, drawing blood on the nape of neck as Helena shuddered out her release.

Myka moaned out a held breath as she held Helena, holding her quiver form as her release subsided.

“Forgive me,” Myka whispered into shaking lips as she plunged the blade right to the center of her carotid artery.

“NO!” Helena screamed as she lifted Myka up off her, laying her mate down on the floor as she slipped her blade out of Myka’s throat. Her fingers shaking as she pressed, trying to slow the gush of blood from her love.

“Stay with me,” Helena pleaded as Myka gripped her wrist, pulling the strong fingers away from the gushing wound.

“I can’t,” Myka whispered. Her fingers shaking as she brushed them against Helena’s cheek, “I am no killer. I could never take a life to save mine,” Myka smiled, her fading away as Helena sat above her love. 

 

…

Helena was so overcome with grief. Never, had a mate taken their own life, ever. She was so sure that Myka was her final mate, that their love would endure through the ages. Helena rested her head against the cold wall of the elevator as she watched it rise to the fourth floor. Her eyes glancing down at Myka cradled in her arms as the lift moaned its protest.

“You will see, but not feel,” Helena was saying the rehearsed speech she told the others at this somber time. Her eyes glazing as she laid Myka’s form down in the middle of the room, her lips lightly brushing over her lover's forehead.

Helena was so lost in her grieve, her sobs quaking the foundation, the walls of the Brownstone. Her legs straining as she pulled a spare coffin from the pile of otherwise occupied ones. Not having the foresight or time to procure a special one for Myka.

“Too soon,” Helena whispered as she meticulously brushed away the dust, “I had never thought to get you one,” Helena whispered, her head bent in shame. “You were supposed to be my one. My forever,” Helena sobbed.

A loud rumble was heard after a heavy shake, the walls spewing out bits of plaster at the cracking of the foundation.

Helena gripped herself as the shock waves threw her against the wall. She hugged herself as an eerie silence then came over the room. A flash of a shadow passed at the corner of her eye. The room rocked violently. Dust was flying, Helena desperately trying to reach Myka, her breath stopping as she got a glimpse of the doctor's head moving.

“Helena?” her turning at the sound, thinking it was her Myka. "

No,” she shouted as Nate came closer. He clawed at her dress, grabbing and pulling her into a kiss. Helena jumped away, the back of her hand wiping at the dusty mold from the decaying body.

“No, it can’t be?” Helena grumbled, feeling all the hurt, the rage, all their jumbled thoughts ripping through her mind. 

“Helena?” the soft, feminine voice caused her to turn, her eyes turning toward the young, bloody corpse that was her mate, shifting and trying to stand.

“Helena!” the sharp, loud voice caused Helena to spin around, Giselle, in her death shroud, the dry, brittle corpse grabbed her. 

“You shall cause no more pain,” the cracked lips brushing against her. Helena shaking as her grip tightens. The push of her being, body and mind against the side rail of the old stairs gave way.

“Noooo,” Helena screamed as she fell. Dead, crumbled flesh was clutched in her fingers as she fell the four stories. Her body slamming and bouncing against the metal hand rails, the sicking cracks of bones, the screams rising as the low thud of her body slammed against the marble floor echoed up. 

The bodies of her lovers fell against the walls; wrapping in each other’s as supported arms crumbled, the dust blowing down, wafting over and encompassing the withered form that screamed her last breath. The once, shiny, black hair thinned to white, the smooth skin withered and pale cries of screams soften, then silence.

...

“Detective Neilson to see Mrs. Wells?”

Artie was standing in the middle of the empty brownstone. Just a week ago, it was heaven against the starkness of that city.

“I’m sorry, who?” the man leaning over the iron railing on the second floor.

“Detective Neilson to see Mrs. Helena Wells in regard to a missing person,” Artie huffing that he needed to repeat himself.

“Ah, the previous owner,” the man said as he jogged down the stairs.

“Are they not here?” the scruffy man said as he took in the empty place. His eyes lighting upon a small pile of trash in the corner.

“Everything was made in haste. The previous owner/owners are deceased and the bulk of all was left to some obscure medical lab in England.”

“Deceased?” Artie said in shock as he scanned over the smarmy real estate man, his eyes shooting to the young couple that came up behind him.

“Right, then, thanks. I will just look around,” the older man grumbled.

“Yes, please. Take your time,” The salesman blurted out, pushing the prospective clients up to the second floor.


	7. Chapter 7

Epilog

________________________________________

Helena was not able to ‘see’ but felt the warmth from the light as Myka would move her withered body from her bronze tomb. The first few times were a rough go, her body adjusting to the encasement, of not being able to move, but her mind hearing everything.

Over the years? Helena was trying to estimate the lapse of time as she heard shuffles of their move, the soft blips of some sort of medical equipment. Myka’s curses at something would cause her heart to clinch.

“My, love?” she would press her thought toward the younger woman, using what little energy she had to reach Myka.

“I’m here,” Helena would hear her, feeling those strong fingers stroking tenderly at her wisps of white, thin hair when she would lay her out of her coffin. Her mind’s eye picturing that loving smile, the glint of gold flecks dancing in the pool of emerald.

“Test number 1866,” she heard Myka saying as the warmth from the sun filled her, “Will proceed at 0423 hours,” 

Helena had become familiar with the sounds over the years from her mate, the sound of a bag rustling, then setting on a wooden counter. The whistle from a tea kettle sounding as she heard Myka shuffle around the room, the click of metal on stainless steel, ‘instruments’ Helena had surmised.

“Dickens?” Helena would hear Myka call out. Was it her new mate? 

One night, her head leaning against the bronze, her mind catching the sobs of Myka, the soft rustle of her hands stroking, fur? “Rest in peace, Dickens ten,” The soft drop of tears tore at Helena’s heart, feeling the utter sadness as Myka’s heart broke.

“I shall kill the one that has caused you such pain,” Helena swore to herself, “I shall eviscerate the sot who dares to toy with your heart,” 

“Baby?” Myka wiping her hand against her nose, sniffling as Helena felt those gentle fingers resting on the lid of the bronze casket.

“I shall bring upon the next ice age to this heathen world at the fool that broke your heart,” Myka covering her mouth as her body shook from the outpouring of emotion emanating from her one. 

Overwhelming her very soul.

“I know you would,” Helena listening to the soft sobs from Myka. Then the silence, the broken bond as she felt Myka move away. Helena’s mind’s eye watching as Myka shuffled around the ‘lab’ she had created.

But this time was different, the soft drops of the crimson liquid lit a fire, raging up and then into her bones. Helena screamed as she felt her body convulsing, Myka hugging her close, “Please work,” was drowned out by Helena’s screams.

“Come back to me”

XXX

Helena sighed as she heard the soft click of the door behind her from her seated on the sofa. Her head bent, her eyes lifting at the sound of the paper bag thumping softly on the hard wooden counter.

“Dickens” she whispered as she heard the feline’s four paws make contact on the kitchen counter, his one paw playing at the bag of blood.

“Dickens 13,” Myka said as she unpacked her groceries.

“And how long was I slumbered in that bronze hell?” Helena replied as she snugged the blanket tighter around her shoulders.

“One hundred and fifteen years,” Myka replied as she poured the pig’s blood into her mug, watching then as it rotated around in the microwave.

“Damn it, Dickens,” Myka said as she grabbed the feline, yanking it away from the used bag of blood, “Go say ‘Hello’ to your mom,” Myka was saying as she plopped the feline down in Helena’s lap.

“A cat? Really, darling. Didn’t this … thing pass away eons ago?” Helena was say, her hands held up as she watched the feline knead at her thighs.

“Yes, Dickens, one.” Myka replied as she finished unpacking the bags. The ping ringing through the small flat. “I needed something to keep me company,”

“This is Dickens, 13.” Myka said over her shoulder toward Helena, her lips then blowing away the offending steam from her mug of blood as she shut the microwave door. Her smiling as she sat down next to her love. Helena lifting the soft throw to allow Myka to settle next to her on the couch.

“How can you stand that vile swill?” Helena asked as she crinkled her nose at the offending aroma wafting from Myka’s mug.

“I told you, one hundred and fifteen years ago, I will not take another’s life to prolong mine,” her eyes shooting sideways over her mug as she stared at her redeemer.

“Yes, yes,” Helena flipping her hand behind Myka’s head as she huffed her indignation

“Helena,” Myka said as she set her mug down on the table in front of them.

“Hear me out,” she said as she stilled Helena’s protest. Her finger pressing against those pale lips.

“Ouch!” Myka huffed as she pulled her finger away, shaking it as she glared at Helena for biting down on her thumb.

“I told you before; many things have changed over these last hundred years. Arron shall be here soon for his sanjuation. Believe it or not, I have found willing, silent donors for us,” Myka sighed as she started to get up, mug in hand.

“When was the last time you hunted?” Helena asking as she gripped the strong forearm.

“Enough of this!” Myka growled, letting her walls down, her inner demon escaping her shielded demeanor as she lifted Helena off the couch, in a blink of the eye, their bodies were pressed against the walls of the small, English flat.

“Listen to me, and listen well,” Myka growled against the shell of Helena’s ear.

“I have been one-mined with bringing you back to me. Decades of blood testing, endless hours hunched over the endless slides, watching, praying for my blood, our blood to respond,” Myka lifting her thigh to press between the dangling legs of Helena as she was splayed against the wall.

“I never, ever ‘hunted’. Ever took another’s life after Pete,” Myka’s flashing eyes relinquished for a second from Mahogany. Downcast at her thigh between those legs, even in the heat of blood-lust, she still protected Helena.

“One hundred years, Helena,” Myka then whispered against Helena’s ear. Her grip easing with each breath of words. “I slaved away, grasping at every new blood revolution before I found the way for us to live,” Myka’s words were laced with defeat as she set Helena down on the floor.

“Hunt, as you will,” Myka throwing her arm around to the large window that adorned their flat. 

“London is calling,”

Myka whispered in defeat as she sunk down into the sofa. “Never mind that I put my life on hold for you, my whole being dedicated to bringing you back to me,” Myka sighed, her face falling into the palms of her hand.

“Go, feast upon the innocent,” Myka sighed into the palms of her hand.

“You think so little of me?” Helena hugging the blanket closer around her shoulders.

“I have dedicated my life to bring you back to me, to us. Does that not mean anything to you?” Myka sighed.

“And I am forever grateful, my love,” Helena whispered, in the blink of the eye, she shrugged her blanket off, settling upon the hips of her love. Her hands gentle cradling the soft face in her hands. “I am forever in your heart,” Helena whispered as she caught the salty tears streaming down Myka’s cheeks with the quick slip of her tongue.

“You,” Helena pulling gently on the chin, lifting those green eyes to meet hers, “Are my only one,”

The soft press of those now flushing lips brushed against quivering ones, “Yeah?” Myka whispered against those heavenly lips.

“Yes, my love,” Helena ghosted, her wanton hips causing the low groan elicited from her Myka as her hips danced over the younger woman’s.

“Mine?” Myka whispered as she gripped the back end of Helena’s canton hips.

“Forever and ever,”

The End


End file.
